


Outside the Box

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Ass to Mouth, Dom!Sam, F/M, Frottage, Light Bondage, Light Nipple Play, Massages, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Spanking, Tickling, basically you get to play with Sam's ass, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A taste of Sam's 'outside the box preferences.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside the Box

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the mention of Sam's 'outside the box' preferences in the last update.  
> ps. two postings in less than a week? HOLY CRAP! This is me flipping the bird at writer's block.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [HERE](http://spectaculacular-sammy.tumblr.com/)

It’s late into the evening, and you’re dressed and ready for bed, when you look up from the book in your lap to see Sam walk into the bedroom. He's got a towel wrapped around his waist and smells deliciously fresh from the shower. There are droplets of water dripping off the ends of his hair, down his shoulders and chest, and when he looks up and sees you, he gives you a sideways smile.

Just watching him move across his bedroom and toward his dresser is a beautiful sight. The standard issue Men of Letters’ towels are bleach white against Sam’s skin and just an inch too short for men of moose proportions, but that’s okay- _more than_ okay.

When Sam reaches for his pile of clothes stacked on top of the dresser, you jump up, grab his hand before it’s filled with plaid, and lead him toward the bed.

Watching you happily trot across his bedroom makes Sam chuckle, and when you tug his towel away from his hips, he cocks his head to the side and playfully sighs. “Are you gonna let me get dressed?”

“Nope.” You grin up at him. “On the bed. Face down.”

“Bossy,” Sam teases. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Keeping Sam’s teasing tone, in a cocky voice, you ask him, “Are you going to do something about it, or are you going to lay on the bed, so I can rub your back?”

As if thoughtfully debating his options, Sam looks up at the ceiling and shifts from foot to foot. You watch him bring his hands up to run them through his wet hair, but at the last second he grabs you by the waist, sits down on the bed, and flips you over his knee, holding your wrists behind your back.

You yelp at the unexpected man-handling and take a moment to catch your breath, then look back at Sam.

He tosses you a playful smirk and answers your question, “Both.”

Sliding his hand up the back of one of your thighs, Sam catches the hem of your nightie with his fingers. It’s just a simple, black, spaghetti-strapped number, not even satin, just jersey cotton with a little bit of lace – nothing racy by any means – but Sam still groans when he pushes the soft material up your skin. “This is new.”

“Got it last week,” you answer with a heavy breath, shivering from the tips of Sam’s fingers dragging up your skin. “Do you like it?”

 _SMACK!_ Sam spanks your left ass cheek.

“That’s kind of a silly question, don’t you think?”

After gasping at the unexpected spanking, you tell Sam, “The panties are new too.”

 _SMACK!_ Right cheek this time.

Sam shushes you when you whimper and gently rubs your ass through your new sheer, black lace panties. “I suppose you got the bra to match?”

“Yes.”

 _SMACK!_ Dead center.

Sam’s grip on your wrists tighten when you squirm in his lap and uses his other hand to pull your new panties down. “Good.” He chuckles softly. “I can’t _wait_ to see.”

Once Sam gets your panties down your thighs and legs, you kick them away with one of your feet. His hand goes back to rubbing your ass, quietly admiring the pink handprints on your skin.

When Sam doesn’t say anything for a little while, and you’re left draped over his knees with your wrists behind your back, you look back at him to make sure he’s not plotting The Great Ass Reddening of 2016. When he’s not, you ask, “How is this better than me rubbing your back?”

A smirk settles its way onto Sam’s face. “I could do this,” _SMACK!_ “All night long, and you wouldn’t hear me complain.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” you answer dryly, but grin at him. 

Sam’s not necessarily spanking you hard. The initial impact stings, but when he rubs your skin, it pretty much goes away, just leaving a warm feeling behind. There is another part of you that is growing warm and maybe a little damp, as well, but you keep quiet about that.

Then, out of nowhere, Sam’s hand leaves your ass, and he’s tickling you. Fingertips buried in your ribs make you squeal and squirm, futilely flailing in Sam’s lap, trying to get away, but he’s too quick, too strong. He hooks one of his legs over yours, holds your thighs between his knees, your wrists in one hand, and there’s no place for you to move.

“Sam!” You shriek breathlessly, laughing hard and gasping for breath. “Sam! No! Oh my gah- SAM!” you weeze and giggle uncontrollably.

“You can get out of this,” he teases, laughing with you and not stopping his fingers. “I’ve watched you get out of holds worse than this before.”

“Monsters don’t – AHHHHH!!! SAM! Monsters don’t _TICKLE_!” 

 _That_ makes Sam laugh; in his entire life he’s never known a monster to tickle. His fingers stall for a half-second when his head falls backward from laughing so hard, and you take the opportunity to rip your hands free of his fist. This captures Sam’s attention, and when you toss him a proud smirk, he pulls you up into his lap, settling you so that you’re kneeling around his hips.

You wrap your arms around Sam’s neck, his wet hair dripping onto your skin and down his naked back, and the two of you pant in each other’s faces, staring at each other.

After a couple breaths, Sam nuzzles your face with his nose. “Well, that was fun.”

You laugh again. “Tell that to my ass.”

Being a sarcastic shit, Sam lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder, so that your bare, hand-pinked ass is right next to his face.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” you shriek-laugh when the thought of Sam actually talking to your ass enters your mind.

Laying over Sam’s shoulder, you can feel him silently snicker to himself. He nibbles on your hip a couple of times before giving your ass another swat, then puts you back where you were in his lap, this time pulling you closer to him.

An involuntary moan slips out of your mouth when you feel Sam’s solid cock brush up against your naked pussy. Sam kisses the sound into his mouth, then groans against your lips, “You’re wet.”

“And you’re hard,” you murmur against Sam’s mouth, gasping when he tilts your hips, so he’s able to slide the length of his cock between your wet pussy lips and rub along your clit.

Through his kisses, Sam asks, “Maybe I should spank you like this, every night?” As he speaks, he ruts himself up against you, and you push harder into him, the wetness between your legs making the friction slippery-smooth. “I like what happens after.” 

“Please,” you beg, mostly asking Sam to fuck you and not really caring that he’s proposing a nightly spanking for you. If a handful of spankings gives you _this_ , every night, you’re totally in.

Sam chuckles softly and pulls his mouth away from yours, admiring how flushed he’s made your cheeks and lips. Moving your hips for you, he silently encourages you to keep rubbing yourself against his cock. When you do, he leans back on his bed, propping himself up on his elbows, so he can watch you move. Since he’s taken his hands away from your hips, you try to shift and take him inside of you, but Sam stops you and shakes his head. “No. Just like this.”

You whine, but do as you’re told and continue to rub yourself against Sam’s cock. When he reaches up one hand to thumb at your nipples, hard and straining against soft jersey cotton, your head falls forward and you moan. Wanting to see you, Sam uses his pointer finger to tilt your head back up, then traces his finger down your neck and chest to draw and invisible line over the seam in the bust of your nightie, only to palm your breast.

Every vein and ridge in Sam’s cock adds a little something extra to your clit as you obediently move against him. When he takes your breast in his hand and squeezes, you gasp and lean forward pressing your hands against Sam’s chest to hold yourself up.

Just as you do, Sam sits back up on the bed, and kisses you just once. “That’s enough,” he tells you in a tight voice and stills your hips with his hands. “I believe you said something about a back rub.”

Feeling your eyes bulge out of your head, you gape at Sam. “But -”

Interrupting you, Sam lifts you up off his lap and sets you on the bed next to him, then grabs a bottle of massage oil from his bedside table drawer. He hands it to you and gives you a teasing smirk. “Back rub.”

Honestly, you should have expected that things would never be so easy and that Sam would let you come right away. Still, you grab the oil from his hand and mutter, “You’re vicious,” under your breath.

Sam chuckles and lays down on his stomach with his arms down by his sides. When you don’t move, he lifts his head and looks back at you with that same smirk on his face. “Well?”

Sighing dramatically, you shake your head and push yourself up on your knees to climb up and sit on Sam’s bare ass, but before you do, you give it a good swat with your hand. Because there’s not one _single_ ounce of fat on Sam’s perfectly-sculpted butt, as soon as you spank him, the palm of your hand instantly stings, and you hiss at the light pain. “Ouch!”

“That’ll teach you,” Sam tells you and buries his grin back in his pillow, waiting.

Sighing again, this time not dramatically, but in defeat, you climb up and sit on Sam’s ass, your knees around his hips. Once you’re situated, Sam pulls his arms out from between your thighs and his sides and rubs his hands up and down your calves, rubbing the parts of your feet that he can reach.

Popping open the bottle of oil, you pour some into your hand. After you close the bottle and put it down on the bed, you warm the oil between the palms of your hands, slicking them up, then lean forward to start working on Sam’s left shoulder.

He sighs into his pillow when your fingers work the knots out of his trapezius and delt, and when you move on to drag your thumbs up and down his spine, he actually groans. When you switch to his other shoulder and repeat the same steps, Sam murmurs, almost slurring, “I think I could have you do this, every night too.”

“I think we could work out some sort of arrangement,” you sass playfully.

You can feel Sam’s quiet laugh through his skin. “I’m sure we could.”

Bending down, you press a kiss into his back, the light vanilla-sandalwood scent of the oil filling your lungs, and answer, “All you’d ever have to do is ask, and you know I’d happily do it.”

A soft hum comes from Sam, and his hands gently squeeze your calves, showing his gratitude.

For a little while longer, you happily work more knots out of Sam’s back, eventually moving down, so that you’re sitting on the backs of his thighs and able to rub at his lower back. It’s always a toss-up between this area and his shoulders for what aches the worst, and when your thumbs gently dig into the abnormally tight muscles of Sam’s lower back, he groans, making it obvious which one has been bothering him.

Some of the knots in his lower back have to be worked out three or four times, because they keep tensing up, but you successfully get them to release. Technically, you’re done, but you don’t stop. Sam’s basically a pile of moose-mush on his bed, completely relaxed, and you spend the next little while just stroking your hands up and down his oil-softened skin. When Sam moans in appreciation, you add light kisses to your strokes, working your way up and down his back.

Loving how relaxed and content Sam is, you softly nudge his thighs apart, so that you can kneel between them. Once you’re settled, you pour a bit more massage oil in the palm of your hand, warm it up, and start to work on Sam’s glutes.

The tips of your fingers and the heels of your hands work into the solid muscle, down one cheek and thigh and back up the other one, and when you start all over again, Sam moans.

Wanting to really let Sam relax and enjoy himself, you don’t want to disturb him, so when you speak, you whisper, “Does that feel good?”

“Mmm hmm.” Sam nods his head, and you work your thumbs back into his skin, starting at the under-curve of his ass and slowly working your way up, one hand on each cheek. When you come back down to repeat the same motion, Sam moans again, and his hips rock into the mattress.

Watching Sam takes all the air out of your lungs. You were actually fairly content to just rub Sam’s back, most of the ache in your center gone and all but forgotten, but it comes back when it’s obvious how turned on Sam still is.

Just to make sure, you go back to massaging Sam’s right cheek with your hand and slowly drag your thumb down the crack of his ass. When Sam does the same thing all over again, except he also spreads his thighs a little bit more, you’re one hundred percent sure what he wants. However, even though you and Sam aren’t playing, you still ask, “Sam?”

“Hmm?” he moans, the sound much lower than usual.

Dragging your thumb over his ass again, so he knows exactly what you’re asking permission for, you whisper in a heavy breath, “Can I?”

Like Sam’s head weighs a thousand pounds, he slowly shifts it to the side and looks back at you. He sees you kneeling between his thighs, feels your hands on his ass, and his cock aches so bad. It has this whole time, and he can feel the wet spot on the sheets where he’s been leaking non-stop from your touch.

“Yeah,” he groans and pulls the pillow out from under his head and shoves it under his stomach, tilting his hips up for you.

You take the bottle of massage oil from him when he hands it to you, then watch him fold his arms up where his pillow was and rest his head on them, giving you full access to his ass.

Ridiculously turned on by what Sam’s just given you permission to do, you take a deep breath and pour a good amount of the massage oil onto your fingertips. Sliding your lubed fingers up and down Sam’s ass, from his hole to down behind his balls, you rub the skin slick until Sam starts panting and pushing back into your hand.

As impatient as he seems, you still work slow, dribbling more oil over Sam’s tight opening and your fingers, giving him the same care and attention that he always gives you. Gently, you make slow passes of your fingertips over his asshole, waiting for it to loosen up on its own with little prompting from you. Eventually, it does, and the tip of your pointer finger just slides inside of Sam, who gasps then moans.

When your eyes dart up to his face, you see that he’s turned his head, so that he can look back at you, and he’s watching you through dark and hooded eyes. Not looking away from him, you start to shallowly move your finger in and out of him, carefully pushing past each ring of muscle multiple times before going any further.

After your lone finger has loosened Sam to your satisfaction, you ease it inside of him just a little further, crooking your finger and lightly brushing his prostate. He instantly jerks on the bed, eyes squeezing closed, and you see his mouth open wide in a silent moan. His hands come out from under his head and grip the sheet in his fists, burying his face back into the bunched up, white bedding.

Giving Sam a few more gentle thrusts of your finger, you add a little bit more oil to your hand, slide your finger out, and then rub your middle finger along with your pointer finger over Sam’s hole. When you start to work the two fingers in and out of Sam, he pushes back into you, forcing your fingers deeper inside of him and making him shout at his own motion. He moves the same way a couple more times, while you stroke his hip and lower back with your other hand, licking and pressing kisses into Sam’s skin.

Still moving, it takes Sam just a minute to get your fingertips to bump his prostate again. When they do, he pushes himself up on his knees, reaches back for your free hand, and brings it to around his hip to his cock. He uses your hand to stroke himself a couple times, then tells you in a husky voice, “ _Slow_. Don’t wanna come, yet.”

Because it’s habit, you answer, “Yes, Sam.”

The second it comes out of your mouth, Sam pushes your hand down to the base of his cock and squeezes it tight, grunting, “ _Fuck_.”

In your fist, you can feel Sam throb. He doesn’t take his hand away from yours, but he does look back at you with a wrecked look on his face. He’s silently asking to play, and you repeat your answer, “Yes, Sam.”

After gasping for breath a couple more times, he tells you in a gravelly voice, “Wait a sec, little girl. Don’t move.”

Keeping completely still, you eagerly wait for Sam to let go of your hand. It takes him a minute to calm himself down, but when he does, he slowly starts moving your hand again.

“Slow,” he reminds you again, his voice strained and low. “If you make me come, little girl, you won’t get to.”

“Yes, Sam,” you murmur again, bending down to press a kiss into Sam’s hip.

He moans in response and keeps moving your hand over his cock with slow and loose strokes.

Resting your cheek against Sam’s hip, you, _very carefully_ , start to slide your oil-slick fingers in and out of Sam’s ass again, just barely curving your fingers inside of him. It takes just a little bit for Sam to need to stop and squeeze himself tight again. You stop your fingers too and patiently wait.

Before Sam starts to move your hand in his again, he takes another heavy breath. “Use your mouth, little girl,” he gasps with a whine that sounds painfully desperate.

Your breath catches in your throat, while heat fills your middle. Need almost consumes you, letting you only answer him with a quiet, “Yes, Sam.”

Obeying, you very slowly pull your fingers out of him, pausing to circle your slippery fingers around his rim. Sam whines, clearly wanting your hand back in spite of what he just told you to do.

Knowing that empty feeling, that loss when all stimulation is abruptly stopped, you kiss and drag your teeth and tongue from Sam’s hip to where your fingers were and slowly lick your tongue over his hole.

Sam’s entire body goes rigid and still, and when you do it again, he shouts, “Jesus _fuck_ , little girl.” You do the same thing with your tongue, and with a heavy stuttered breath, Sam moans, “Good girl.”  

Smiling to yourself, you flatten your tongue and lick again, letting the very tip catch and flick over the rim. The massage oil is sweet on your tongue, tasting like soft vanilla and smelling just the same, only mixed with Sam’s usual fresh-from-the-shower scent and nothing more. That, on its own, would be enough to drive you insane, but swirling your tongue over Sam’s hole, licking at the wrinkles, and just barely dipping inside, all while he’s practically writhing and groaning like he’s going insane is intoxicating.

Sam doesn’t want you to stop, but, _God_ , he doesn’t want to come, so he takes his hand away from yours and wraps it tightly around the base of his cock. “Keep going, little girl. _Slow_ ," he’s just barely able to choke out while your tongue pushes inside of him. Sam doesn’t come, but he’d swear his vision goes white.

Since you were in his lap, Sam’s been dripping. He can feel his cock continue to leak, desperate to come, and when he looks down at himself, he can see a thick string of pre-come linking the tip of his cock to the bed. Randomly, your hand comes down and gently rubs over the head, picking that wetness up your fingertips, but it doesn’t take long for that line to form again.

When you feel Sam’s hand leave yours and grip himself tightly, you slow your fist down even slower than the pace he originally set. On one hand, _fuck_ , to see Sam come like this? Hearing all the deep and rough and strained and _desperate_ sounds that he’s making? _Holy shit._ But on the other hand, you want to come too. You desperately want to bring your free hand down between your legs and edge yourself, but that would mean that you’d have to ask permission. You have no desire to take your mouth away from Sam’s ass and be the reason that he stops making _those_ sounds.

Probably just a few more minutes go by, but as you work your tongue in and out of Sam, you can feel his thighs start to shake. Very much familiar with the feeling, you put your free hand to good use and soothingly rub the quivering, solid muscle, then you hear Sam, desperately groan, “Stop.” He gasps for breath and almost collapses on the bed when you obey, but he still pants, “ _Fuck_ , little girl. You gotta- you _gotta_ stop; I can’t -”

Very slowly, you unclasp your hand from Sam’s cock and plant one light kiss on his ass cheek before sitting back on your heels. As Sam breathes heavily – still gripping his cock in his hand – he works hard to come down, and the second that he does, he’s turned around on the bed and plastered over the top of you.

His mouth reaches for yours, and because you can still taste the vanilla and sandalwood oil on your lips, you twist your face away, giving Sam access to your neck instead. Not giving a fuck, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. He's always figured, it’s _his_ ass, and since you put your mouth on it, who is he to shy away?

His tongue tangles with yours, and his hips rut up against you at the same time that his hand quickly reach back and pull your legs up and around his waist. When his dripping cock rubs against you absolutely _soaked_ pussy, Sam grits out, “ _Fuck_ , little girl. You’re _so_ wet. You like doing that, don’t you?”

Apparently, Sam doesn’t expect or need an answer, because as soon as he asks his question, his lips are back on yours. He grinds himself against you, and because you’re _so_ slick, Sam slides right inside of you. Both of you shout and curse. He didn’t let you ride his cock earlier, and he didn’t finger you. Because of that, you’re _so_ tight for Sam, and he fills you up perfectly.

“So good for me,” Sam grunts against your lips, barely taking his mouth away from yours, but like he realizes what he’s missing out on, he shifts his weight from his elbows to his hands. Still fucking you, watching you, he tells you, “Let me hear it, little girl. Haven’t got to hear you all night.”

With your mouth absent of Sam’s, all kinds of moans rip free from your throat. Licking his lips, Sam watches you, pushes into you harder when you beg so politely for it, loving the way that your hips rise up to meet his. 

Meeting Sam thrust for thrust, makes the warmth light in your middle so quickly, and like Sam just knows it, he mutters, “Not yet, little girl. Fuck, _not yet_. If I can wait, so can you.” Because Sam’s mouth is back on yours, hardly letting you breathe, you only get his name out with a desperate moan. 

Wanting to be deeper inside of you, Sam pushes himself up on his knees. A deep sound rumbles in his chest when he pulls your hips up to his, and your back arcs up against Sam, moaning at the new depth.

Looking down at you, Sam wishes he would have taken the time to pull off your black nightie. He’s definitely not taking the time now, but he does reach up and to pull the neckline down, making your breasts fall out, naked just for him. Before he starts to move again, Sam grabs one of your hands and brings it up to your breast, squeezing your hand for you. Hardly trying for words, he grunts, “The other one too. _Now_. Wanna watch.”

When you take your breasts in your hands and start to pluck your nipples, you keep your eyes on Sam’s. He gives you an obscene smirk, groaning and the sight, but grits out, “Harder, little girl.”

Once you stop just plucking your nipples and change to pulling and twisting them, you almost beg for Sam to move again, but you don’t have to. He does it on his own. He grips your hips tight in his hands, pulls you into every one of his thrusts while pounding into you.

“Come with me,” Sam grits out, and it’s the most beautiful sound that you’ve ever heard. He takes one of his hands from your hip and pushes his thumb against your clit. “Right now.”

Immediately, you come, crying out, arcing up off the bed with your arms reaching up for Sam. After he comes with a jaw-clenched groan, he gladly takes the invitation, collapsing over the top of you. Both you and he gasp and moan together as he rocks into you, the stuttered motions sparking off mutual aftershocks.

Even though Sam feels like he could stay right where he is for the rest of the night, he knows that he’s probably squishing you, so he rolls over onto his back and takes you with him. He exhaustedly lets his head flop back on the bed, and you rest your cheek on his heaving chest, his heart pounding loudly in your ear. 

It’s quiet for a little while, just heavy breathing and hearts pounding. Just as you start to catch your breath, Sam sits up with you in his lap and reaches for a stray pair of pants. When you try to move off of his lap, so he can put them on, he grabs you and smacks your ass.

“Ouch!” You reach back to rub your butt. “What is with you and my ass tonight?”

Smirking and raising a curious eyebrow, Sam silently asks you the same question.

Sighing, you shake your head and laugh at him. Sam keeps his smirk, and somehow manages to pull his flannel pajama pants up and not let you go. Once he’s done, he fixes the front of your nightie for you, pausing only to run his fingers around the soft lace neckline.

Only offering you a widened version of his smirk to show you how much he really likes your new purchase, he lifts you up from the bed and says, “We need a shower,” then carries you down the hall.

*//*

After a long day, you and Sam walk down the bunker’s hallway to his bedroom to go to bed. Once his door is closed behind the two of you, you can feel him watching you as you pull off your jeans and tee shirt.

Just as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, Sam comes up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and looks down over your shoulder. “That the new one?”

“Yeah.” You smile up at him and turn around, so that he can see your new purchase. “Do you like it?”

As if Sam’s deciding whether or not he likes your new black lace bra, he traces the cups and straps, feeling the soft fabric under his fingers. Through the sheer fabric, he can see your nipples harden, but he doesn’t say a word, just turns you back around. You think he’s going to unclasp your bra for you, but, instead, he bends you over his dresser and rubs his hand over your back and ass.

 _SMACK!_ Sam’s hand comes down on your left ass cheek.

You gasp in shock, and Sam groans, “That’s kind of a silly question, don’t you think?”


End file.
